


Don't Cry for Me When It's Over

by iridiumring92



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-09 00:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8868712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridiumring92/pseuds/iridiumring92
Summary: AU. Hollow Victoria is a strange city. One day, Roxas Slater falls and hits his head, and it becomes an even stranger city. He encounters rich men, thieves, mysterious gangs, mistresses, and obnoxious strangers with red hair - and he thought his life was complicated before. Akuroku and mentions of Sokai.





	1. Chapter I

Afternoon had already descended on Hollow Victoria when Roxas Slater left the academy. He knew what that meant and had for years: it meant the skies were dim and painted with streaks of gray clouds. It meant the streets were slick with rain and the air was heavy with humidity. He took all of it in stride as he pushed open the doors, preparing to step out of the building.

“Hey, Roxas, wait!” a voice shouted from behind him, and Roxas turned to see his brother Sora and a few of his other friends rushing up to the door. “Are you really that eager to go out in this weather?”

“Of course not,” Roxas laughed. “I am just used to it by now.”

He started to turn back to the door, but Sora stopped him. “Hold on just a minute. I must wait for Kairi,” he informed his brother. “And you should be waiting for Naminé.”

“No way,” Roxas answered. “She is probably already meeting with that Riku.”

Sora grinned. “Whatever you say.”

He leaned against the door and watched the hallway behind them. Kairi approached the entrance of the building a few minutes later, her skirts swishing around her feet as she walked, with her sister Naminé at her side and two other people trailing behind them. The others were familiar to Roxas and Sora; they usually walked part of the way home with the four of them.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Kairi greeted them with a smile. She took up a spot at the front of the group next to Sora. “Ready to go?”

A chorus of murmurs of agreement rose from the group, and Kairi led them out into the Hollow Victoria afternoon. The stone steps in front of the academy looked shiny with the constant streams of rain, and Roxas kept his eyes on the ground as he walked toward them.

The steps were not located immediately in front of the academy’s doors—they stood a short walk away, in fact, and before Roxas got there, he discovered that he had trailed behind the group more than he had intended. He had made it only halfway to the stairs, watching his feet, and they had already begun to descend them, to cross into the academy’s courtyard. Roxas gripped the strap of his backpack in his fist and broke into a run in order to catch up.

“Roxas, what—?” a voice asked from the group ahead, and he looked up.

He reached the top step, and he felt his foot catch a spot of rainwater and go right out from under him. He grabbed for the railing next to him, but to no avail. He completely missed, his hand grasping at nothing, and for a few glorious seconds, he was suspended in the air, looking down at the ground but in no way touching it.

Abruptly, gravity decided to pull him back to earth, and he fell.


	2. Chapter II

Roxas opened his eyes to see someone else standing above him, his or her face blurry and surrounded by what appeared to be a thousand candle lights. He blinked slowly, hoping his eyes would adjust.

“Roxas!” a voice chirped. The face turned away from him and announced, “He is awake!”

He sat up slowly and found that he was lying on a bed in a room he didn’t recognize, surrounded by his friends. Even their other two classmates still stood there, looking at least vaguely concerned.

“Are you okay?” Sora asked. “That looked like a pretty bad fall.”

Roxas blinked hard again, trying to remember—had he fallen? He remembered running to catch up with them, and sure enough, he recalled his fall next. His head throbbed as though he was reliving the fall in exact detail. It truly did hurt.

“I think I’m okay,” Roxas said anyway, shrugging. “It cannot be that bad.”

“Roxas,” Kairi exclaimed. “You hit your head on that stone. It _could_ be that bad.”

Roxas swung his legs over the side of the bed. Now that he looked around, he saw that he had ended up in the academy’s infirmary. The light came in through only the space between the curtains and from the candles on the tables beside him, but it was enough to give him a headache. The walls were painted an institutional off-white and the paint peeled in spots. The bed that he sat on felt hard. The whole room made him feel ill even though he had only hit his head.

“I feel okay,” Roxas told her. “Truly.”

He stood up on his own, without even so much as stumbling, and walked toward the door. His friends all watched him, looking like they expected him to go down at any minute.

“Are you sure you do not want to stay here for a little while longer?” Kairi asked him.

“I’m sure. I will be fine, I promise,” he said with a nod.

But they did not question him further, and that made Roxas quite uneasy.

Just as he was about to open the door and walk out, though, a man in a white coat emerged from behind a curtain. “I do not think so,” he stated, striding directly toward Roxas. “Sit down. You are not finished here. And I do not remember allowing visitors,” he added to Roxas’s friends.

Naminé and Kairi and their other classmates mumbled a rushed “Sorry” and escaped out the door at the sight of the man, but Sora stayed. “Um, sir, w-with all due respect, Doctor Vexen, he is my brother.”

“I cannot allow you to stay here and disturb my patient,” the man answered. “Goodbye.”

Sora shot Roxas an apologetic look before he exited the room after Kairi and the others.

“Now then,” the man said, sitting down on a stool on the other side of the cramped space. He was tall and thin with long blond hair and emerald-green eyes, and he held a quill pen and a pad of paper in his hand. “You seem to have taken quite a blow to your head. Would you mind enlightening me on what happened?”

Roxas ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed at the thought of telling this complete stranger that he had tripped down the stairs. “Well,” he began, “I was running to catch up with them”—he nodded toward the door to indicate his friends who had just left—“and I slipped.”

The man nodded. “Understandable. The streets are quite slippery at this time of year. You must have hit the ground hard, though.”

Roxas pressed his lips together. The side of his skull still throbbed, so he guessed the man was right, but he didn’t actually remember hitting the ground.

“Roxas Slater, is it?” the man finally asked after a long pause. “Vexen.” He offered his hand for Roxas to shake, and Roxas did. “Now, Roxas, if you don’t mind. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three, sir,” Roxas answered without hesitating.

“Good,” Vexen said, lowering his hand. “Does your head still hurt, by chance?”

“Yes,” Roxas told him, rubbing the back of his head again. _But I bet it is not by chance,_ he thought bitterly.

“As I expected. Please, stand up.” Vexen gestured with one hand for Roxas to get up from the cot.

Roxas stood up once again. Vexen studied him for a few moments before continuing, “Do you feel at all dizzy, or lightheaded?”

“No,” Roxas told him, shaking his head.

“Then, please try walking toward the door.”

Roxas did as he was told, feeling a bothersome sense of déjà vu nagging at the back of his mind. He had walked to the door not a minute ago. He just wanted to get out of here.

“You still do not feel any sort of abnormality, I presume,” Vexen said, bending his head and putting pen to paper.

“No,” Roxas repeated. “Is that it?”

Vexen was silent. He continued to scribble things down on his pad of paper. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he looked up and addressed Roxas. “Yes, that is all. You are free to leave. However,” he added as Roxas put his hand on the door handle, eager to flee, “if you feel the need to, do come back and talk to me. I would also request that you return in one week so that I can check on you. If you do not, I may require the assistance of your parents.”

“I-if you insist,” Roxas said. “May I go now?”

“Go ahead,” Vexen told him, gesturing toward the door with one hand and going back to his pad of paper with the other. Roxas took the opportunity to flee the room and step out into the hallway.

He expected to see his group of friends waiting for him outside the door, expected to be greeted by a wave of conversation. But there was no one in the hall; it was empty and eerily silent. Roxas swallowed hard and began his walk.

He reached the door of the academy again and walked out into the muggy Hollow Victoria streets once more. This time he didn’t have anyone to catch up to, so he kept his steps marked as he moved this time, being careful not to slip. His head throbbed with pain each time one of his feet met the ground.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he stumbled again and grabbed onto the railing for support. He stood with his fingers clenched around the railing for a second, the scene from not so long ago flickering in his mind.

When Roxas Slater came to, he realized he wasn’t gripping the railing at all—it was someone else’s arm.

“Oh—damn! Sorry!” Roxas gasped, jumping away from the figure and releasing his death-grip on his arm. “I did not, ah . . . see you there.”

“’Tis all right,” the guy answered with a shrug. Roxas looked at him and did a double take. His hair was the brightest red that he had ever seen, sticking out from his head at all sorts of angles. He had slight marks of makeup on his cheekbones just below his teal eyes, something Roxas had hardly ever seen on a man like him, but it somehow made him look sexier.

“Are you okay?” the redhead asked Roxas. “You do not look so good.”

“I know,” Roxas mumbled under his breath. “I just—I just fell. I’ll be okay. I am going home.”

“Is that right?” the guy answered. “Well, fine.”

He turned his back and started to walk away, but something in Roxas made him call out again. “Hey, wait a minute,” he said to the red-haired man’s back. The man turned around and looked curiously at Roxas again.

“Do you go to this academy?” Roxas asked. “I do not think I have ever seen you here before.”

The guy grinned and shook his head. “No. I do not.”

“What are you doing here?” Roxas continued his interrogation. He considered that the red-haired man might have actually been looking for him, but he discounted that idea almost at once. It was more likely that he had come to wait for his girlfriend or something. “Does your girlfriend go here?” he blurted out, unable to stop himself.

The man laughed. “Girlfriend? Me? No. . . . No, she does not.”

“So . . . what are you doing here?” Roxas asked.

“I was just passing through when you, well, took hold of my arm,” the redhead stated. “I am not here for any sort of reason, if that is what you are asking.”

“Oh.” Roxas squinted at him. He was not sure why this man would be loitering around one of Hollow Victoria’s high schools, and yet he was not sure why he even cared in the first place.

The redhead spun completely to face Roxas. He put his hand on his hip, and Roxas followed the motion, noticing that the man had the longest legs he had ever seen on someone of his stature. Just above his hands was his waist, which looked almost inhumanly slim.

“So, if you do not mind me asking,” the redhead said, interrupting Roxas’s reverie, “what _is_ your name?”

“I am, ah, Roxas. Slater.” He stammered his way through the sentence. “What about you?”

“Axel Devereux,” the guy answered, sliding one hand into his pocket. “Nice to meet you, Roxas Slater.”

“Right,” Roxas said. “Right, ah. You too.”

“Do _you_ go to this academy, Roxas Slater?” Axel threw the question right back at him.

“Yes.”

Axel nodded. “Well, okay then. See you around, I guess,” he said.

“See you,” Roxas said under his breath as Axel Devereux disappeared.

He walked home paying more attention to the ground than he ever had before.

* * *

 Sora was already at their seventh-floor apartment when he got home. He and Kairi sat at the kitchen table doing schoolwork. Roxas walked in, out of breath from the long walk up the apartment stairs, and hung up his soaking-wet black cloak on the hook next to the door, announcing his presence to his brother as he entered. “Sora, I am back,” he called out.

“Roxas,” Sora exclaimed, standing up from his seat at the table. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am fine. That guy—er, Vexen—let me leave.” Roxas shrugged. “I feel fine.”

“Well, that is good,” Sora said a little uneasily, slipping back into his seat at the kitchen table. He looked between Roxas, Kairi, and his notes for a minute. Finally he said, “Kairi.”

Kairi looked up. “Hmm?”

“What is the answer to this question?” he asked sheepishly, turning his book toward her.

Roxas knew that was his cue to leave. He took his backpack and crossed the hall to his room, dropping the bag outside his door and heading into the bathroom to get a towel.

As he dried off his hair and his soaking-wet clothes, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He saw with a jolt that Axel Devereux was right: he did look like hell. The color was drained from his face, and his eyes had a blank, exhausted look in them. Roxas blinked in the mirror, watching his reflection copy and wondering if this was exactly what Axel had seen.

 _Whatever,_ Roxas thought, turning away. _'Tis not as though I will ever see him again anyway._

He crossed the hall to his room and spread his books and notes across his desk. The window opened up to a view of one of the lengthy streets that ran parallel to Hollow Victoria’s river. That river cut a path through the entire city, and numerous bridges traversed the gap between the two halves. Roxas watched for a moment from his window as drops of rain sprinkled into the river and pedestrians ran through the storm, holding umbrellas or whatever else they could find to keep themselves dry.

Sure enough, the rain had begun to fall harder, and soon the water formed a curtain just outside, pounding the streets and the river in a relentless staccato that drove everyone indoors. Roxas had watched this happen several times before, from this very window, and he knew the scene just like he knew the Hollow Victoria afternoon. Or like he _thought_ he knew, anyway.

Finally he grew tired of watching the rain outside and turned to his notes. He was just beginning to scribble some things down when the door to his room burst open and in stepped Sora.

“Holy—!” Roxas clutched the edge of his desk for support. “You scared the hell out of me, Sora.”

“Sorry,” Sora answered, grinning. “Kairi and I were talking, and we wanted to know if you would go to dinner with us later this week.”

“Sure?” Roxas said. “But won’t I be the third wheel?”

“Not if you let Naminé come along,” Sora remarked with a smirk.

“I thought you were convinced I should date that other girl in our class, not Naminé,” Roxas reminded him.

Sora raised an eyebrow. “I never said you should date Naminé in the first place, genius. Are you trying to tell me something?”

“You idiot,” Roxas laughed, smacking his brother on the arm.

After a moment, Sora turned to Roxas again. “So, will you come?” he asked.

“I said I would, did I not?” Roxas returned. “Just tell me when.”

He turned back to his window and saw that the rain had stopped. He thought he caught a glimpse of a flash of red hair on the street below him, but it was only the watchmen, lighting the gas lamps again after the sudden bout of rain.


	3. Chapter III

The tall silhouette of a man stood atop the roof of a building, his shadow defined by the light of the moon. His figure was slender, his legs long but masked by the lower half of his cloak. His hood lay carelessly about his shoulders, his hair sticking out at strange angles on his head.

“Where the hell are they . . .” he muttered under his breath, looking down at the dimly lit streets below him. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. The other dangled down at his side, fingers coiled around a weapon without a clear outline. “Ugh, this is so dull.”

Minutes passed and the man did nothing but stare at the road below. He mumbled a few curses under his breath. “They are late again,” he added.

He licked his lips and turned his attention to the roofs beside him. Snapping his fingers, he allowed his weapon to disappear in a flash of flame, barely more visible than a match lit in the darkness. Then he broke into a run, jumping from one rooftop to the next, his long legs taking him easily over the gaps as he moved.

Before long he noticed another cloaked figure moving along the road below him. The tall man grinned and kept up the pace.

“Devereux!” the voice from below hissed loudly.

“What is it, Bloodworth?” the man on the rooftop called, not even trying to keep his voice down, his smile infectious. Neither one of them stopped moving.

“Will you _slow down_?”

“Oh, is that the problem?” the man on the rooftop said. He stopped running and leaped down from the building, landing lightly on the street next to the other man. “Maybe you should show up on time.”

“Honestly, Devereux. You are running on roofs again? I swear someone is going to notice you.” The other man shook his head, pushing his hood away from his face. His hair was a light shade of blue and fell easily past his shoulders.

“I have to entertain myself somehow.” The first man stepped into the light, revealing his bright red hair. He stuck a hand into the pocket of his cloak and withdrew a cigarette, which he lit and pinched between his lips.

“Right.” The blue-haired man rolled his eyes. “One of these days you are going to get killed entertaining yourself, Axel.”

Axel took a drag from his cigarette and grinned at the blue-haired man again, letting the smoke curl from his lips. “At least I will be entertained when I die.”

The second man crossed his arms. “So, have you received our assignment for tonight?” he questioned, changing the subject.

“Yeah, and the damn shadows did not care to show up on time either,” Axel growled. “They were supposed to be on this street half an hour ago, but I did not see hide or hair of them.”

“Shadows,” the blue-haired man echoed. “Well, at the very least, it should not be too hard.”

“I hope not. I have places to be.”

“Since when do you ever have places to be?”

Axel grinned. “Since when do I not, Saïx?” he said. “We should go knock out those shadows.”

The blue-haired man stared after Axel as he dashed down the street with his weapons held out in front of him. “What am I going to do with you, Axel?” he sighed.

The two of them made their way to the front gates of Hollow Victoria. There was usually a drawbridge set out over the river, but because it was the middle of the night, the bridge had been pulled up to stand vertically as part of the wall. Saïx and Axel flanked the door, pressing close to the wall and watching through the darkness for their targets.

“I see nothing,” Axel hissed.

“Calm, Devereux. Calm,” Saïx said.

A few minutes passed. Axel became restless and began to pace back and forth in front of the drawbridge. “Maybe it would be in our best interest to search elsewhere?” he suggested finally.

“I do not think that would be wise,” Saïx said. “If the shadows do happen to show up here, they will overrun the area without us here to stop them.”

“That may be true,” Axel agreed, “but what if we simply have their location wrong and they are overrunning another area unsupervised?”

Saïx sighed. “If you insist, Axel,” he said, “we shall have to split up. I will stay here, and you may go search the rest of the city. But if you happen to screw up, do not expect me to let it go easily.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Axel waved a hand in Saïx’s direction. “I will come back and retrieve you from your post after I defeat all of those shadows.”

Saïx sighed as he watched the redhead disappear into the night.

Axel took off again, dashing down the narrow streets of Hollow Victoria with his weapons locked in his hands. He kept moving until he reached one of the neighborhoods in the center of the city. At the entrance of the area, he slowed down and leaned against the sign. He could hear and feel the undeniable presence of shadows.

He cursed under his breath and slipped into the area. The houses around this part of town were closer to mansions than houses in size, sitting on large lots where shadows could take refuge. Axel scanned the area in front of him, but he saw nothing. He continued on.

Leaning against one of the walls that belonged to a house closer to the center, he heard the shadows again, scrambling about in the darkness. He circled the house once but saw nothing. Axel realized what that meant—that the shadows must have taken refuge _inside_ the mansion, and that he would have to go in.

His boss had trained him for this work, but he had never actually done it. Still, Axel remembered the steps. He pulled out a tool from his cloak and aimed it at the roof above him. A small chain shot out and latched onto the edge of the roof, and, using it as a rope, he began to scale the wall. About two-thirds of the way to the top, he encountered a window. He summoned one of his weapons and used the spikes to pry the window open. As soon as he had budged it enough, he swung closer to the wall, grabbed the sill for support, and dragged himself inside.

The house that he arrived in was huge. He had come in through the window of a guest room that looked like it had not been lived in for a very long time. The room alone could have been larger than many of the houses in the slums or the apartments in the middle district. The door stood slightly open, and Axel crossed the room and slipped through it, emerging into a long hallway.

He could still feel the shadows, but the house was dark and he saw no trace of them. He crept down the hallway until he reached the stairs, and he descended those, heading for the left side of the house. The pulsating of the shadows, he could tell, came from a room in that wing.

Once he reached the end of the left-side wing of the house, he came to a stop facing the largest set of doors in the hall. When he closed his eyes, he could feel the energy of the shadows lurking on the other side. Why had he and Saïx even waited for them by the front gate when they had festered in waiting right here? Axel shook his head.

He pushed the door open.

The room behind the door was huge and fully lit by several chandelier-style lights hanging from the ceiling. It looked like a ballroom, with polished floors and meticulously decorated walls. Curtains hung elegantly over a large window on the opposite side.

In the center of the room, shadows writhed, and a figure Axel recognized all too well turned to face him.

Axel tipped his head back and uttered a curse under his breath. “Master Xemnas Arkwright,” he addressed the man.

Xemnas turned to face Axel, and a sarcastic smile formed on one side of his mouth, disappearing as soon as it came on. “Axel Devereux,” he answered. “’Tis nice to see you.”

“Liar.”

“Why have you disobeyed orders again?” Xemnas asked, leaving the shadows behind him and taking a few steps toward Axel.

“I did not mean to disobey orders, Sir,” Axel muttered. “Bloodworth and I were searching for the shadows at the city gates, but I did not see or sense any trace of them. I finally told him that it might be a better idea to split up.”

“You were told never to stray from your missions,” Xemnas hissed. “And that is exactly what you have done—not once, not twice, but three times—in the past two weeks.”

“Sir, I beg of you. It was an accident. I sensed the shadows here. What are you doing?” Axel added as he glanced down at the writhing shadows that formed a half-circle around the place where Xemnas had stood just moments ago.

“That, Devereux,” Xemnas answered, “is none of your business. You had best leave.”

“I could not—” Axel began.

The lights went out, cutting him off midsentence. He heard Xemnas shout, and just before he turned and ran from the ballroom, he saw a huge shadow appear before the man and chains lash around his wrists and ankles.

He dared not return to Saïx. Instead he fled into the city’s middle district, vowing to take refuge there until things had cleared up.


	4. Chapter IV

Roxas woke the next morning to the sound of thunder echoing outside his window. He sat up and crossed the room, went to the window, and pushed the curtains open. Rain poured down on the city again, drenching the streets and merging with the river. All of the gas lamps on his street had gone out, leaving the road in near complete darkness.

He sighed and let the curtains fall back over the window. His head pounded again—he decided it was probably the rain. He had felt okay before going to sleep last night, after the storm had died down.

It was going to be another one of those days, he thought as he dressed and headed for the kitchen. But hopefully it wasn’t one of those days that ended in him falling down the stairs, hitting his head, and winding up in the academy’s infirmary.

As he ate breakfast in their cramped kitchen, watching the tiny window as streams of water poured down it and obscured the view of outside, he thought about his unexpected meeting with Axel Devereux again. There was something familiar about the man’s name, but Roxas couldn’t think of where exactly he had heard it before. He was so deep in thought that when Sora walked in, just the sound of his chair scraping against the floor made him jump.

“Ah,” Roxas exclaimed, dropping his spoon. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Sora laughed. “Are you sure your head injury has not brainwashed you?”

Roxas grinned good-naturedly and went back to eating his breakfast.

“It sure looks bad out there again today,” Sora remarked, trying to see out the undersized kitchen window. “Try not to slip, Rox.”

“Don’t call me that,” Roxas said. “And I will be _fine_. It was just some dumb accident yesterday.”

“And you are lucky that dumb accident did not crack your head open.”

Roxas sighed. “Okay, okay, Sora. I will be careful, just for you.”

He and Sora finished their breakfast and prepared to leave for the academy, blowing out the candles in the kitchen and plunging the apartment into darkness. Roxas locked the door on the way down the stairs, his thoughts trailing back to Axel Devereux again.

“Hey, Sora . . .”

His brother turned back to look at him. “Yeah?”

Roxas bit his lip. “Never mind,” he said. For some reason he suddenly did not want to give away the existence of the mysterious redhead. He wanted to keep the meeting all to himself, regardless of how little sense it made.

“Something wrong, Roxas?” Sora asked. “Does your head hurt or something?”

“Oh, be quiet.”

They stepped out into the streets, into the mist that had had evolved from this morning’s downpour. Roxas pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, but still the spray managed to infiltrate his vision. He squinted against it as he walked on.

The two brothers moved into the square, where hundreds of people circulated around them. Some were sitting at the edges of the area where the buildings created a barrier around it, huddled in corners, trying to keep dry. Others sat on the edge of the fountain that penetrated the center, enjoying the rain. Roxas and Sora passed through the torrent of people, walked right past the stalls of shopkeepers shouting sales pitches, ignored the shoulder bumps they got from walking too close to other people. Most of them wore cloaks just like they did, the hoods obscuring their faces.

Roxas squinted through the mist and thought he saw a glimpse of red hair under the hood of one of their cloaks; he blinked and it was gone.

He had little time to wonder why he had begun to see Axel Devereux everywhere after just running into him yesterday—they were already turning out of the square and onto the road that led to the academy’s stone front steps. But he did know that there was something undeniably familiar about the man.

“Roxas!”

Roxas realized that he had spaced out completely. His brother stared expectantly back at him.

“Come on, we are going to be late. And you probably shouldn’t try to run the rest of the way to the academy,” Sora reminded Roxas.

Roxas sighed. “Yeah.” He glanced over his shoulder one more time, but, seeing nothing but rain and black cloaks, he turned back and followed Sora through the academy’s huge wooden doors.

The smell of rain filled the whole entryway of the academy that morning. As Roxas walked through the doors, trying not to let his boots slip on the floors made slick by rainwater, he overheard a few students talking off to his left, deep in conversation.

“Did you just say a _thief_?”

“Yeah, I did. Haven’t you been listening to the news? He robbed a house on Center Street last night, apparently.”

“God, I hope he doesn’t go for my street next.”

“You’d _better_ hope. I heard he stole ten thousand munny worth of stuff.”

“Damn.”

Roxas ran a hand through his hair. He followed behind Sora as they moved through the entryway, looking for the rest of their friends. He wondered vaguely if those students had been making things up, or if there really was a thief. It wouldn’t be the first time, of course, but the last time they had caught a notorious thief on the north side of Hollow Victoria, a riot had practically ensued in the streets. The police had chased the thief down, finally cornering him on one of the side streets and arresting him with a crowd of a thousand people at their heels.

“Did you hear that?” he asked his brother, breaking into a jog to catch up.

“Hear what?” Sora said. “Hey, there’s Kairi and Naminé. Let’s go say hi.”

Roxas frowned, but followed Sora over to where the two sisters sat. Apparently Sora’s girlfriend gave him tunnel vision.

“Sora, have you heard?” Kairi asked. “There’s a thief somewhere in Hollow Victoria!”

Roxas sighed. “That’s what I was just asking him about. He never pays any attention. Is there really a thief, or is it just a rumor?”

“No, no, ’tis real. They saw him. Some man with silver hair in a cloak.” Kairi shrugged. “But I heard that the owner of the house said he was wearing chains.”

“Chains? The kind they use on prisoners?” Sora questioned.

“Just the kind. I don’t understand how he could steal anything if he had chains on him,” she answered.

“And how did he get away if they saw him?” Roxas added.

“I’ve no clue.” Kairi shook her head. “If you really want the evidence, I suppose you’ll have to go to the police. Or the town crier.”

“The town crier,” Sora echoed, grinning. “Definitely, Kairi.”

Kairi sighed. “We should get to class.”

Classes dragged by. Roxas heard nothing but rumors about the thief’s exploits from last night and the sound of the rain on windowpanes. He flew out the door at the end of his last class, hardly bothering to look for Sora, not even watching his step as he sped over the wet pavement. He rounded a corner and slowed to a stop at the back of the school, not entirely sure what had compelled him to run this far.

And then.

“Yo, Roxas,” a voice called out. “Careful. You don’t want to trip again, do you?”

Roxas’s lips parted, but no sound escaped his mouth. Standing in front of him once again was a man with a strangely slender figure, his legs long but masked by the lower half of his cloak. His hood lay undone over his shoulders, and his hair emerged over his scalp at all sorts of angles.

It was Axel Devereux.

“What are you doing here?” Roxas said finally.

“Careful. Don’t hurt yourself staring so hard,” Axel teased him. “I heard there was a thief around here somewhere.” He stuck a hand into the pocket of his cloak and withdrew a cigarette, which he lit and pinched between his lips.

“Not around here,” Roxas told him. “The north side of town.”

“Mmm, close enough,” Axel said, leaning against a wall. “Besides, I needed to get away for a while.” He took a drag from his cigarette and grinned at Roxas again, letting the smoke curl from his lips.

“So you came over to the academy to smoke.”

“Why not?” Axel inhaled again and flicked ashes from his hand.

“Well, if you have not noticed, smoking is looked down upon at academies like this one.” Roxas crossed his arms. “Also, 'tis strange that this is the second day in a row I ran into you, don’t you think?”

“Maybe just a little.” Axel shrugged. Smoke escaped his lips with the words.

Roxas studied him for a moment. “You meant to come, didn’t you,” he said, his eyes searching the man’s face.

Axel shrugged. Roxas stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to answer, but he didn’t.

“Where are you from? What academy do _you_ attend?” Roxas demanded, taking a step forward. “And why do you want to come here?”

"I no longer attend an academy," Axel said. "I live on the west side of town."

Roxas’s eyes widened. "So you are a student of the university?"

"Well, god _damn_ ," Axel said, flicking ashes from the cigarette again. "You are quite the fast learner, aren’t you?"

Roxas shook his head, looking confused. "You really should not be loitering around here, you know."

"I don’t care," Axel said. "Look, I work for an organization that really needs to know where that thief ran off to. I heard he was around here somewhere, and I decided to give it a shot. And take a break, all at the same time."

"Right," Roxas said.

"Would I lie to you?" Axel asked, and then smiled. "Scratch that. Yes, I would. But I promise I would not lie about the thief. I need to know where he went."

Roxas shrugged. "I could not tell you where he went."

"How about this, then," Axel said, holding up one index finger and leaning down toward Roxas. "You can help me look for the thief, and I'll . . . I'll do something for you."

Roxas's eyes narrowed. "Something? Such as what?"

"I do not know yet," Axel replied with an infectious smile. "I will think of something. That I do know."

"Wait," Roxas said. "I must inform my brother of where I am going."

"Oh?" Axel answered, leaning closer. "No, you do not. As of this minute, Roxas Slater, you are kidnapped."

"N-no! What are you—" Roxas began, but Axel interrupted him by putting his arms around Roxas's waist, lifting him up, and tossing him over his shoulder like a small child. "Put me down!" Roxas exclaimed, pulling at the hood of Axel's cloak.

"Roxas, you were warned. What did I tell you? You have been kidnapped," Axel answered, and began walking away from the academy.


End file.
